It Burns Through To My Soul
by MsSquidRunner
Summary: 9 year old Stilinski suffered from a terrible accident that left him with no mother and terrible burns all over his body and face that subjected him to a life of isolation and misery. After a particularly harsh bullying incident as he turns 17, the young Stilinski and his father move to Beacon Hills for a fresh start. The teen is convinced nothing will change. Until a certain bite.
1. Epilogue

**This is my new idea, I hope it doesn't suck too much and any criticism (Or praise) is welcome!**

 _ **Epilogue:**_

It snowed the day the boy was burnt, ironic really.

An accident, they said much later, but he was there when it happened and knew it was his fault. It was his parent's anniversary and he just wanted to do something nice. A cake, 9 year old him decided, a cake was the perfect thing to make for his parents.

I think it is safe to assume that the boy had no idea what he was doing, for 5 minutes into the making the kitchen as well as the boy were covered in flour and eggs, but he refused to give up and with a stare of fierce determination he kept stirring until the sloppy mess of dough began melding into a somewhat edible substance.

Satisfied with the results, he placed it in a platter, careful not to make more of a mess than he had already made and popped it into the oven. Just as he was about to light the flame, the boy's eye caught sight of an ivory glint. He turned his eyes to the window and squealed in excitement at the prospect of a snow day. He rushed for a better look, eyes wide and innocent as his eyes drank up the silvery flakes that fell from the sky.

That morning, a certain woman was awoken to a sound of wonder "Mummy, Mummy, come quick, come see!" It was her son's voice. It was filled with a shrill excitement and glee that bounced along the walls loudly with an intensity that brought a carefree grin to the mother's face "Mummy, hurry up, wake up!"

She opened her eyes to a bright green ceiling in a bed covered with a mess of tangled blankets and sheets. She wasn't a messy sleeper so it must have been her son, crawling into her bed at night to be with her. She knew because it wasn't her husband, who had worked the night shift last night and was probably asleep on his desk, having worked himself into a comma. That man never knew when to stop.

"MOMMA! Come _ON!_ " Her thoughts were stopped by the same voice, her son's patience having run thin he screamed up the stairs crazily "Before it stops!"

Knowing how little time was left before her son worked himself into hysterics, she thundered down the stairs with genuine enthusiasm, excited to see what had made her son so eager to wake her.

A soft grey light shone down on the boys face, revealing eyes full of bright awe, and a smile so wide it lit him even brighter.

"What's out there?" She asked softly as she followed him into the shine of the daylight. But her son didn't answer, only continued to gaze mesmerised out the window.

She froze when she saw the white flakes, a small smile playing at her lips as she watched them swirling and dancing, curling up and over each other, flitting up before flowing back down again.

"Wow" She breathed, although it was just snow, she revelled in the childish glee that she had neglected herself of ever since her husband had decided he wanted to try for Sherriff, "How wonderful" She grinned, putting her hand on the boys shoulder, not even noticing the mess of the kitchen since her eyes were completely mesmerised by the jewels that fell from the sky slowly and elegantly.

However, in his hurry to reach the window, neither noticed the gas that was being released into the room. The unlighted oven began emitting a silent and invisible poison that was as deadly as it was quiet.

 _Sniff Sniff_ "What's that smell?" the mother asked, gazing curiously at her sons face

"Oh no" He gasped, "I didn't light the oven to finish my cake"

"Oh that's alright dear," she mused "I'll go turn it on now"

The boy went back to his watchful post, letting the smile play at his lips as he let the soft sound of his mothers' humming lull him into a peaceful state.

Said woman was swaying her hips angelically, trying to avoid the random splotches of egg, flour and milk assorting around the room. Grabbing the box of matches from the counter she scratched the red tip of the stick across the rough side of the box.

And with that match came the flame that ruined a little boy's life.


	2. I Think I'll Call You Stiles

**New Chapter! Just so you know, the first point of view** _ **is**_ **Stiles, in case you get confused and he just moved to Beacon Hills with his dad**

He wasn't a particularly talkative person, maybe he might've been, if it hadn't been for the stupid accident that inevitably led to _more_ and _more_ pain and misery than he and his father could deal with. He just never felt like there was anything to say, nothing he said would change things, change his life, change his face, change his scars.

So no, he wasn't a particularly talkative person, needless to say it didn't stop him from hissing and biting out little sarcastic barbs designed to make people feel miserable.

Not that he did it to anyone worth respecting, just to those select few idiots who thought pitying the scar-face would help them clear their dirty conscious's somehow, or the others who thought _picking_ on him would do any better.

Basically, he was horrible to anyone who wasn't his father and tried to talk to him. What? He needed to have _some_ fun, plus it's not like people treated him any better, human's were naturally selfish and menacing, if not a little stupid.

Obviously he didn't count the Stilinskis, him and his father were basically broken shells and so were not included in this accurate profile of man-kind, duh.

Anyway, as he was thinking, human's were dumb and inconsiderate, mostly doing things without thinking it through and rarely with good intentions that didn't do something for themselves, this woman was a prime example,

"Aaaah Mr Stilinski," She regarding him with a small sweet smile on her overly glosses lips, trying hard not to let her eyes linger on his scars for too long before glancing down at her clip-board nervously, "Welcome to Beacon Hills High School, my name is Principal Doris" she says, still trying hard not to make eye-contact "We hope you feel at home and at ease here and make many friends" the principal clears her throat, her gaze flashing crazily all over the place before holding a hand up towards the door, silently beckoning them to leave her office so they can begin the tour, he gets up lazily with his father, who had a protective arm on his shoulder, which he shakes off easily, a cool calculating gaze following the head-teacher, who in turn looked even more uncomfortable.

"You aren't the most professional teacher are you?" He enquires calmly, to which his father smacks him on the arm in warning, face alight with alarm,

"Son" He regards sternly, moving an apologetic smile to the principal,

"No that's okay" She assures, her face alarmed, probably because she figured the boy would fall apart at the slightest touch, and there goes dad full on smacking him, "I suppose not, I am quite new at this job, I've only been head teacher for 2 months" She answers

"Or it could have something to do with the fact you don't know how to treat someone like me"

Let's just say the tour didn't go well, but it was her own fault, she was sweating so much it even over stank the overpowering perfume she absolutely _reeked_ of. Some would say he exaggerates , his therapists thinks he's just taking it out on others because he didn't want to deal with his own problems, but he knew that wasn't true, he dealt with his problems just fine, other people were the problem, treating him differently and making his life considerably worse. Some days he just wants to lock himself in his room and never come out, which is never the case, especially today on his first day at _Beacon Hills High School_ where it's a wonder it was still open seeing the death-rate in that town was really alarming.

Scott's POV

Scott was just going about his normal day, he had woke up this morning the same as any other day, threw on his clothes and boarded his motorbike with the same groggy morning tiredness, he had deposited his bag in his locker only to share a lovely kiss with his girlfriend Allison, trying to ignore the longing gaze it brought out of Kira, he had patted Isaacs shoulder with a quick 'See ya' to the others and then proceeded to go to his first class: Chemistry.

Despite Mr Harris's sudden 'retirement' Chemistry was still a lesson to dread, probably because of the new teacher, who was even more insufferable than the last (if that were even possible). Her name was Mrs Fork and she was horrible.

Which was probably why she was watching the new kid with thinly veiled disgust evident on her face, Scott couldn't really see the new kid but he was sure it couldn't be that terrible, he could see a dark head of hair and a thin lean figure dressed in jeans and a black hoodie, but not his face, which was apparently so disturbing people were either openly staring or avoiding his gaze. Scott glanced at Isaac worriedly before entering the classroom.

Mrs Fork didn't even comment on him being late, she was apparently having a heated argument with the new kid.

"Do not try that snarky behaviour with me young man, unless you want a weeks' worth of detention" She hissed angrily, her face turning red and a large vein threatening to pop on her forehead

"All I did was inform you calmly that I prefer not to be presented like a dancing monkey in front of the class to introduce myself whilst sharing with them ' _one thing about myself'._ I doubt anyone would want to know about where I come from or what my father does for a living" He bites out icily

"Why you..." She growls, starting to grow purple as she mumbles incoherent obscenities under her breath.

"Now if you lack the brain cells to finish your sentence, I think I might just find my seat" And finally the new kid turns around to find his seat, giving everyone the perfect view. Scott had to stifle a gasp, the boy had large whiskey eyes and pale skin, but that wasn't what caught Scott's attention, it was that half his face was covered in hideous burn scars starting from just below his hairline to below his collar line where no one can see.

The boy, obviously aware of the stares, walks confidently down to the end of the classroom and stares expectantly at the teacher, who is slightly less red-faced than usual.

She doesn't send the new-kid to detention, and Scott might think it could have been because she pities him, but that would have to mean she had a heart. Then again, it's hard not to feel sorry for a boy with a face like that.

Lydia's POV

Lydia had heard all about the boy with the burn scars from Scott and Isaac and so was not overly shocked when he showed up at the cafeteria at lunchtime. He was alone and proceeded to walk to the farthest most vacated table at the end of the hall where he opened his copy of 'The Maze Runner' of all things.

He seemed to be alone, was the first thing Lydia thought and after glancing at Allison, realised she had reached the same conclusion. A muted nod from her was all Lydia needed and they both stood, making their ways to the new boy's table, ignoring the questions from the rest of their friends.

"Hey, my name's Allison and this is my friend Lydia" Lydia allowed Allison to take the lead, since she was the nicer one and always appeared the least threatening.

The boy glanced up from his book calmly, regarded them with a rise of one dark eyebrow, the one on the clear unmarked side, "I would offer my name, but I doubt you'd be able to pronounce it" he drawled, letting his eyes wander back down to his book.

"Yes, well we heard about your little fight with Mrs Fork" Lydia tried, a small amused smirk on her lips at the thought of the horrible chemistry teacher speech less.

"Aaah, so that was the name of that woman, and here I thought I would have to call her Bitch for the rest of my life" Allison and Lydia both snorted, amused and liking the new guy more and more already. Lydia was sure after a while she'd get used to the scars, no matter how painful and disturbing they looked.

"We call her Bitch anyway" Lydia retorted, and he glance up, regarding her thoroughly and then let a small smile play at his lips

"Makes sense" he finally said

"Yes well, we were wondering if you wanted to sit with us" Allison asked innocently, smiling a sweet innocent smile down at him

"Thanks, but I'd rather not" He went back to his book, all previous warmth stripped from his speech as he turned the page with stiff robotic fingers.

"Why not?" Lydia enquired defensively

"Because I don't want you pitying me and thinking you have to be my friend because of some kind of moral obligation" he answered coolly, glancing up at them for a second, a small flash of longing in his eyes before it's gone and he's back to his book.

Lydia however caught it and was determined to get this guy to sit with her, "We're not doing this because of some moral obligation, we heard what you did to Mrs Fork and figured you're a cool guy" She said

"I don't know" He answered unsurely, staring up at them warily

"Please" Allison pleaded "I haven't met anyone who might even be snarkier than Lydia, it's be cool to have someone who can keep her at bay with some spiteful bickering"

"I'm sorry, but no" He apologised, a small regretful glint to his eyes although his lips were set in a firm line.

"Alright" They gave in reluctantly, not wanting to push this guy out of his comfort zone "Can we at least get a name, maybe not your unpronounceable first one, but what about a last name"

"Stilinski" He said

"Stilinski huh" Allison smiled "I think I'll call you Stiles"

 **Tadaaaaaaaaaaa I know Stiles isn't really Stiles-ey but just you wait! This was kinda slow pace and boring so I'll try and add more interesting points next chapter, maybe some whump or angst because lord knows I love both of those things**

 **Please review, thaaaaaaaaaaanks**


	3. My Skin Wasn't My Only Scar

**HELLO, this is an early post because I love angst ;) This story may seem a little boring but it'll get better (I hope)**

Stile's Dad POV

The first time the Sherriff (although he wasn't the sheriff at the time) saw his sons' scars he cried.

He cried hard. Body racking sobs complete with snot and a red face, luckily his son was asleep so he hadn't seen. Well no, his son wasn't _asleep_ ; he was in an induced coma, because the pain of the burns was too much for his body to deal with.

Oh God, how did it get so bad? How could he let this happen? All through a child's life you tell them that you'll protect them _Don't worry son, as long as I'm here_ _you're safe_ you might say or _I'll never let anything happen to you._ It's easy to agree, these promises are impossible to keep, absolutely _impossible_ , and the Sherriff knew this, he was completely aware of the fact, in fact he only said it to calm down his child, to make them feel better.

Despite this, there is still a hidden fact in that lie, a pact parents secretly make with themselves, _I'll try as hard as I can to keep you safe,_ and the Sherriff has failed. He failed miserably and alone, his mistakes costing him his wife and his child.

He knows it's not healthy to blame himself, but he can't help himself, if he hadn't been so eager to get promoted, he could've been at home, sure he would remain just a meagre police officer, but he could've done something. _He could've done something._ Ironically, he did in fact get his promotion, while his son was healing in hospital, and even after, the Sherriff poured himself into his work, he figured if he couldn't have his old life he'd make sure to get everything out of this one. No time to grieve for him.

As a matter of fact, it took a very long time to get used to his sons face. It was, for a lack of better term, hideous. At least half of it was. And the Sherriff realises how utterly pathetic that is, how disgusting of him to admit his sons face is hideous, but it is. It's honest to god terrifying, and it took quite a while to get used to. The nurse at the hospital his son was first admitted to reassured him that this was normal, you don't have to love your child's looks to love your child, and the Sherriff knew that, he still loved his son unconditionally.

Surprisingly enough, the burns were not their major concerns clinically, it was actually the carbon monoxide poisoning that did the most damage, and there were days when the Sherriff thought his son was going to die.

Well, yes the burns were serious, but there were thankfully not many complications other than a few minor infections. The poisoning however did so much more damage.

When you breathe in carbon monoxide, it gets into your blood stream and prevents red blood cells from dispersing precious oxygen. It will kill your body tissues and your cells and eventually you will perish if you are exposed to it for too long.

There are a very long range of side effects, some long term and some short term. Sadly however, the sheriffs' son was exposed to the deadly gas for too long, and he has a lot of damage done that will most probably last his whole life.

His son will forever have difficulty breathing, not being able to deal with prolonged shouting or even try out for any sports, when the Sherriff gets asked by his son to join little leagues, it's a firm _no_ and an arm full of a sobbing child.

His son will forever have brain damage, difficulty concentration, and when his son can't finish his stupid math homework, he has to explain to the teacher that his son needs shorter tasks, because his brain won't stop getting distracted.

His son will forever have a minor case of Parkinsonism, shaky tremors in his hands and sometimes his whole body, and when his son starts crying for his father to get him to stop, the Sherriff can do nothing but hold the fork for his son as he spoon feeds him like a toddler.

His son will forever have one blind eye, although it was barely visible because half the eye was sealed shut under the blaze of a flame.

Sure, the face seemed bad, hideous even, but it wasn't the biggest struggle, far from it.

Stiles POV

Needless to say, he liked his new nickname, it was nice and much more pronounceable than his actual name, and despite his better judgment 'Stiles' liked these new girls, even if he declined their offer to sit with them.

Something about them just attracted him, and not sexually, if that's what you're thinking, they just gave off this friendly, fierce aurora, if that makes sense. They were definitely pretty, stunning even, but 'Stiles' just didn't find all that stuff important, not really.

The first one, Allison had a softer kind of pretty. Her hair, dark and lustrous, was almost umber. Actually, that's not a very accurate description; her hair wasn't as red as umber it was almost like dark wood and her warm brown eyes complimented her large dimpled smile nicely.

The second one, Lydia was entirely different with a fiercer pretty. Her flaming red, no strawberry blonde, locks fell in soft curls down her back and her large green eyes were shadowed by long eyelashes. When she smiled, she didn't show teeth, it was a tight lipped, smug, but still warm, smile that stretched her full lips across her face.

So yes, they were quite different, gorgeous, but different. 'Stiles' could tell they could've gotten on well, but he doesn't plan to get too close to them. Something was bound to go wrong.

When he was young and naive, he used to try hard to make friends. If they managed to overlook his outward appearance they would be driven off by his sharp wit or his many problems.

There are very few schools, if not all, that 'Stiles' can safely say he hasn't had an incident in, usually it's after a few months when everyone is somewhat used to seeing his face around school.

Unfortunately for him, he had one the day after his meeting with Allison and Lydia in the boys' locker room of all places, where he was sitting on the side lines since he wasn't to wear any gear seeing as he's not allowed to participate.

It had began as small tremors in his hands, as usual, and 'Stiles' dismissed them, as usual, because they happened all the time. They weren't anything different, just some harmless brain damage caused by some CO poisoning, totally normal. That is until it started to rack his entire body, starting with his hand up his arm and beginning with his chest. He starting breathing hard, and people were beginning to notice, the hard breathing was a mixture of panic and lung problems, which sent him into further panic to which he jumped up and ran for the bathroom, which sent him into more lung problems. Exercise was not his thing.

The problem was, however, that he had no idea where the bathrooms were, so he ended up sitting down, his back pressed against the wall in the hallway, praying to God no one finds him.

Scott's POV

Scott was just getting ready for gym, he was talking idly to Isaac as he began to take off his shoes, until he caught a suddenly increasing heartbeat, Isaac caught it too and they turned to look for the source, only to hear the door slam shut, the heartbeat going out with it.

Scott turned to Isaac who dismissed him with one wave of his hand

"Go" He coaxed in a slightly worried voice "I'll cover for you"

Nodding once, Scott bolted out after the panicking teenager. He followed him down a few corridors until Scott turned a corner to find a crouched figure, breathing laboured and leaning against the wall.

Scott, being Scott, immediately ran after the looming figure.

"Hey you okay?" As he got closer, Scott saw that it was the new kid, the burnt side of his face visible under the ugly yellow light of the corridor, "hey bud, Stilinski right?" Scott asked, immediately feeling stupid because the kid can't actually talk.

Stilinski, the new guy, just shot him a slightly panicked look, his wrist leaning on his knee to give Scott a clear view of one hideously burnt hand shaking violently.

"Should I... Should I do something? Get someone or..." Stilinski quickly dismissed him with a shake of his head, his breath coming in huge gulps of air, and the racks of his chest, which Scott only now notices, start slowing down considerably, his breathing coming down slightly, only to be interrupted by one wet cough.

Scott watched worried, wondering if he was in pain. Gingerly he took a hold of Stilinski's scarred hand to sense if he was in pain. Slowly, black veins started growing from Scott's hand. Stilinski took a gasp of relief, his breathing still laboured, but he didn't seem to be panicking quite so much. He was too preoccupied trying not to die to notice Scott leeching the considerable amount of pain.

After a couple of minutes, he seemed to be alright, despite the large tremors in his hands and his wheezing.

"Thanks" He whispered, closing his eyes, which stretched his waxy pale skin further, and Scott had to look away, although he felt awfully guilty, even if the new kid couldn't see.

"Oh I didn't do anything" The kid opened his eyes to eye him suspiciously with bright whiskey eyes, and Scott decided to focus on the teen's nice eyes instead of his scarred up face.

"Is there a name you go by or something?" Scott enquired, smiling reassuringly.

Scott didn't think the kid would answer, but after a while Scott heard a deep raspy voice murmur,

"Stiles"

 **So yeah, this post is like really soon, but I just felt like writing for this story! I know it's a little boring, a lot of writing and not a lot of audio and stuff, I'm just trying to set everything up. Don't worry the main plot line will come soon!**


	4. There Was An Accident

**Hey I hope you like it, don't forget to review and I hope it's okay!**

There was an accident

 _This is the accident_

This is when his feet sunk into the ground and the world started to shake and he couldn't breathe oh god _he couldn't breathe_ and he hears the gentle whispers of his mother coaxing him to join her and it tempts him but his feet have sunken into the ground and the world is still shaking and he can't breathe oh god _he can't breathe._

There was an accident

 _This is the accident_

This is the pain and healing and the light and the dark. It's a glimpse of his future whilst his stuck in the past and it's him drowning in depression as he gets sweet merciful gasps of air.

There was an accident

 _This is the accident_

It burned and it burns and it feels like it's all going backwards. It feels like the fires out and then it's still on and then it's barely there and then he's exactly the same as he was yet he's still who he is. It burns like it burnt before but as the complete opposite

There was an accident

 _This is the accident_

It hurts so much he thinks he might be sobbing and screaming and moaning. He thinks he hears gentle voices soothing him and assuring him safety "It's okay, you'll be okay", but he keeps screaming and crying and begging to die because it's happening again and it _can't happen again_ , but it also hurts oh god _it hurts._

There was an accident

 _This is the accident_

And he remembers a match and an explosion from a long time ago, but also a car and a crash and a boy with sharp teeth and flaming red eyes that made the pain go away but then the pain got worse and worse and _worse_ and it feels like the match and the explosion and he's so confused and it hurts so bad.

There was an accident.

 **Ooooh and so it's begun!**


	5. I Just Wanted To Say

**I just wanted to say, there was a guest who gave a review about me making stupid mistakes, and I just want to thank that person for pointing out the whole eye thing :D, I edited the story.**

 **Also, I changed the last chapter, which said Stiles had been shot, but now it says he was in a car crash, because I change my mind easily. Anyway, enjoy...**

 _ **The Night Before**_

accident

ˈaksɪd(ə)nt/

 _noun_

An unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury.

"How was your day?" Asks the Sherriff, a little too eagerly as his son sets his bags down on the kitchen table

"Fine"

Is his immediate and rehearsed answer. You see, the Sherriff and his son have this routine; it's always fine, and never anything else, even if the other isn't fine. It's just what you're supposed to say, and you're not allowed to call each other out, just pretend you believe it.

The problem, however, was that the Sherriff didn't feel like white lies and acting anymore, he was tired of keeping everything behind carefully constructed walls. He was hoping this change of scenery would help ease the process of having the guards melt for both of them; but the Sherriff has never been a very patient person.

"Cut the crap" he decides to start with, and his son's head snaps round so quick, it should've given him whip lash, "I actually want to know how your day has been"

"I said fine" is the guarded response, a warning flashing in his son's tone, which goes ignored, obviously.

"We both know you're not fine"

It's been so long since the Sherriff has had to deal with his son's emotions.

"No, I think we both know _you're_ not fine." And just as long since his son has had to deal with his dad's.

"I think we're both not fine" The Sherriff decides, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

"I think we want to be fine" Says his son, who takes a seat across from him around the dining table.

The Sherriff doesn't know how to describe it, but he knew, in that moment, they'd both agreed that for the first time in 8 years, they were going to talk without pretending everything's okay.

"I'm sorry" Was the first thing the Sherriff choked out, a huge sigh escaping his lips as he poured his guilt into those two words. They were the wrong things to say.

"You have nothing to be sorry for" Came the shocked whisper, and it was so sure that it hurt the Sherriff's heart all the more.

"Of course I do, all this..." the Sherriff paused to glance up at his sons expectant gaze "...this is me. I'm the one who wasn't home that day... I'm the one who couldn't protect you" Of all the reactions he expected, the Sherriff did not expect the furious glare his son delivered then and there.

"How dare you. _How dare you"_ he hissed; whiskey eyes alight with rage and disbelief " _I'd rather you abandoned me and moved to England then have you in that house on that day."_ The young Stilinski began, "You can't just say those things to me and expect me to love you more for wanting to end up like me or _**mom"**_ The Sherriff flinched furiously

"That's not what I meant, I just feel like I failed you"

"You're not a failure dad" came his sons' gentle voice

"Yes I am" was the firm reply "I failed because I don't even know who you are. _I don't even know my own son."_

"Of course you do" he was assured

"No I don't!" The Sherriff raised his voice defiantly "We put up these walls to protect ourselves from having to see each other's pain! And this whole time we've been doing it all wrong, because we're not protecting anyone, we're just damaging ourselves! I WANT TO KNOW YOU! ALL OF YOU!"

"You think you've got everything figured out! You think it's as simple as that! _You can't spend 8 years building up walls only to let them fall down at the blink of an eye! I DON'T EVEN WHO I AM ANYMORE, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SHOW YOU?!"_

"We can do it together" The Sherriff tried

"No we can't. We don't even know where to begin!"

" _Please_ , Just listen to me"

" _NOTHING YOU SAY WILL CHANGE ANYTHING!"_ His son shouted " _NO MATTER WHAT YOU TELL ME I'LL ALWAYS BE THE SAME STILINSKI WITH THE FUCKED UP FACE AND THE DAMAGED FEELINGS! YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW ME DAD; I'M A PIECE OF SHIT!"_ The teen's breath was coming out ragged and wheezy

"Son, calm down, you'll hurt your lungs. Please don't be angry"

"I AM NOT ANGRY! I AM IN _PAIN!_ AND YOU DID THIS TO ME! _**THE ONE PERSON WHO'S NOT SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT ME AND NOT SEE DISABILITY! **__YOU COME UP TO ME TO TELL ME I'M NOT FINE, WELL GUESS WHAT,_ _ **I KNOW I'M NOT FINE, I'VE ALWAYS KNOWN I'M NOT FINE!**_ _THE BULLIES AND THE THERAPISTS AND THE TEACHERS KNOW I'M NOT FINE,_ _ **YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE WHO THINKS I'M OKAY!**_

 ** _BUT I'M JUST NOT_** "

And then his son storms out with one last burst of energy, the door slamming behind him, and all the Sherriff can think is how his son hates him.

 _ **Stiles**_

He runs to his jeep hurriedly, cramming the keys into the ignition and twisting it frantically until he hears the whirr of his engine.

 _Breathe Breathe Breathe breathebreathebreathebreathebreathICAN'TBREATHE_

Gulping air greedily, a bead of sweat crawling down his neck, Stiles shakes his head lightly to get rid of the little black dots, which proceeded in worsening his growing head ache.

 _Focus Focus Breathe Breathebreathebreathebreathebreathe_ _ **YouHaveToBreathe**_

Adjusting the gear and mumbling pathetically to himself, Stiles steered himself onto the road and began driving aimlessly.

 _I shouldn't have shouted_ he thinks to himself _now I'm wheezing like an asthmatic._

He's in shock, Stiles knows this, but for some reason it doesn't register. He also knows this shouldn't be something worth going into shock about, but Stiles' has just lost the only somewhat stable thing he's managed to hold onto in his life, and he'll never be able to look his father in the eye ever again.

So distracted by everything, Stiles didn't see the road he had managed to find himself on, or the truck.

 _ **Scott POV Now**_

He hadn't meant to see the memory, he had been trying to leech the pain by placing his hand on the injured teens neck, god know everyone was getting tired of the constant screaming, but when he had placed his hand on Stiles' skin, the amount of pain had set his instincts haywire, and his claws came out on their own.

Now Scott had done two things to Stiles' he never would have done without asking permission. The first had been on the side of a road where Stiles lay, even more mangled than usual, having been hit by a truck, and Scott had without hesitation bit him.

It had been a stupid decision, I mean, what was he thinking? But at the time, all Scott was thinking about was keeping Stiles alive. The truck driver had suffered also, a few broken bones and a punctured spleen, but nothing as bad as Stiles' , who would've died. Scott made the right decision.

Hadn't he?

 **Thank you for reading all the way to the end! You have surpassed all my expectations.**


	6. She's Blind Enough To See

**Hey guys it's been a while, and I know what you're all thinking, 'You haven't posted since last year' (ha, and I think I'm funny), but there have been some complications and stuff blah blah blah ANYWAY ENJOY...**

 _ **One Year Ago**_

"You're such a freak Stilinski" A rough shove to the ground, the dull grey of concrete under his nose and the sound of footsteps fading away. He pushes himself up slowly, trying to ignore the painful ache in his ribs.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Gentle hands find their way under his arm pits, and he naturally tenses at the breach of physical boundaries.

"I'm fine" He lies through his teeth, a wary glance spared to the girl who had helped him. She had bright blonde hair, and even brighter eyes.

He steps away quickly, dusting off his clothes and huffing under his breath as he spots his bag, all contents spilled out and abandoned.

"Are you hurt? Anything broken? Any blood? Any way I can help?" The stranger enquires on innocently, and the young Stilinski grits his teeth in frustration.

"Can't you see for yourself?" He bites out, and her face closes off completely.

"Actually no." She says icily, eyes settling somewhere over his shoulder. He mentally curses himself.

"Oh, well than no, I'm fine" He mutters out, knowing how sympathy just gets tiring after a while. The girl must feel the same way and smiles pleasantly, unseeing eyes lighting up instantly. 

"That's okay, I can see shapes, so I could see that you fell over, and usually I have my cane, but I was only walking a short while, and it can get quite annoying sometimes" And we're back to babble.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance, bending down to put everything back into his bag. Perhaps, if circumstances had been different, he might have been more comfortable with talkative people, perhaps even have become one, but he prefers silence. And being left alone.

"Sorry, I never told you my name, it's Erica" She grins, reaching a hand out to shake. He doesn't take it.

"Stilinski" He offers, eyeing her hand and frowning. She puts it down, her grin faltering somewhat.

"That your first name" She asks

"No" Her lips set down in a firm line and she rubs the back of her neck sheepishly

"Alright then" She sighs uncomfortably, or was that sadly? He's really bad at reading people

"My first name is unpronounceable" He offers, that's not really why he gave her his last name, but he regretted making her sad, he wanted her to smile again. He hadn't seen anyone smile at him besides his dad, and that was very rarely.

"I'm sure I could manage" And there's that grin again.

"I doubt it, it's like, polish or something" He replies, a small amused twinkle in his eyes

"Try me" Erica puts her hands on her hips and tries to look intimidating, but it's ruined by the small smile she doesn't manage to squash down entirely.

"If you want to learn it, it'd take all day"

"I got nothing but time, you really think someone like me would have loads to do in a small town like this?" She challenges, a little too eagerly.

The young Stilinski's eyes widen, and his face turn stony, all trace of amusement gone as he bite his unscarred thumb nervously. She wants to hang out with him? Should he? He's been really lonely at school, and it's not like he can be embarrassed by his face or anything, she can't see. Should he?

No

No that's a terrible idea, it'll only end badly

"Alright" He said quickly. Damn it!

But he found he didn't regret it though, when he got to see Erica's blinding grin, which seemed to light up the whole world.

 _ **20 Minutes Later**_

It had been two minutes since they'd walked into the cafe and Stilinski had already started feeling uncomfortable. Everyone was trying really hard not to make eye contact with him, except for this one couple sitting by the door who wouldn't quit staring.

"Erm, Erica? Can we go somewhere else?" He asked quietly, keeping his head down.

"Nonsense" She replied, completely oblivious to the source of his discomfort "We only just got here, it can't be that bad"

"But..." He hesitated before glancing around and continuing in a hushed voice, "People are starting to stare"

Erica grimaced, "Really?" She sighed, "Why? I'm not that obvious am I?"

"What!? No, it's not you they're staring at" He was quick to reassure, ready for the inevitable rejection after she asked.

"Huh? Are you like, insanely hot or something?" She questioned, bright eyes widening somewhat, lips curling into a smile.

"Only the opposite" He shot back, leaning back in his chair and hiding his face behind the menu.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, "I got burnt when I was really young, and now my face is all messed up" He said, "People are going to be like, really mean to you now if you start hanging out with me, so I totally get it if you don't want to be friends or anything. I wouldn't want to be friends with me; I've never even had any friends. SO yeah, if you leave I totally won't blame you or anything." Oh wow, maybe he is the talkative type, he's pretty sure that's the most he's ever spoken since the accident.

Erica was deep in thought for a second before she seemed to have decided on something and she set her brow in determination. Oh, here it comes...

"I've never had any friends either"

"No that's okay, I totally get i- Wait what!?"

"I've never made any friends before" She repeated, twisting her hands nervously together, "I guess, the blindness puts them off or something, or maybe it's cause I'm annoying and talk too much. I used to be really shy, so never made any friends, and once I become more open everyone had already made their friend groups and it seemed weird to try and make friends in the middle of the year. I mean, it's really hard joining a group cause after a couple of months they're all set in stone or something, ya know?" She gasped for breath, biting her lip to stop her word vomit from coming out any more.

"I kind of get it" He sighed, "Except I never really had a chance to make friends because my face makes them physically sick so..." Erica was trying to hide a smile behind her hand

"I'm serious, I made this new kid in 2nd grade throw up on the teacher" Now she couldn't stop the giggles from escaping, shoulders shaking in amusement

"Stop laughing" He grinned, "I'm serious, it was Mr. Harris, he _hates_ me! You really think it's a coincidence he becomes the local high schools chemistry teacher the exact year I start it! He has some kind of personal vendetta, I swear" And then they both start laughing long and hard, happy crinkles in the corner of their eyes and stomachs aching.

It wasn't even that funny, it just felt so good to laugh after so long without it.

After a while they both calmed down, still smiling happily and Stilinski even managed to ignore the stares from the other cafeteria members.

"No but seriously, my scars are hideous" He warned

"So what? It's not like I can see them anyway. Now, let's order something. I'm starving"

 _ **6 months later**_

The young Stilinski gazed at the grave with empty eyes, a hideously burnt hand holding an ironically flawless bouquet of ivory roses, which he carefully placed on the grave of his best friend.

 _Here Lies Erica Reyes,_

 _Loved Daughter And Inspiration To All,_

 _Her Unseeing Eyes Saw Much More Than Most Could Hope To Even Touch On_

 **I've been planning to add most of the characters from the series into this fic, one way or another. Please leave me suggestions for pairings, and I'll try and take them into account. Thank You!**


	7. He's Too Late To Love Her

**YO THIS SONG'LL NEVER BE ON THE RADIO-O,** **Even if my clique were to pick and the people were to vote** **,** **it's the few, the proud, and the emotional** **! Sorry, had to add that in... ENJOYYYYYYYYYYYY...**

He was completely wrecked after Erica, she always managed to help him ignore the stares, and she made him feel normal, unafraid. She made him feel like the teenager he was supposed to be.

He hid it though, hid it with everything inside of him, because he could see his dad's workload getting bigger and bigger, and he didn't want to add his worthless son's problems to the mix.

But he could only take so much.

He goes to the ice rink 2 weeks after her death, because she would always blabber on about how bad she wanted to go. Not so much for the ice skating, but more to do with a boy who works there, Vernon Boyd. He's not the chattiest, but she would drone on about how amazing and soothing his voice is; all deep and musky. He's never met the guy, but he feels like he owes it to Erica to give him a message or something.

He found the note she and him were going to give to Boyd before she died, the one they spent an entire sleep over writing and obsessing over. It's so blatantly _Erica,_ and he was very close to not giving it to Boyd, because it wasn't _fair_ that a guy who barely even knew her gets a note that's absolutely _soaked_ with her personality. He left to give it to him anyway, because he loved Erica more than he loves himself.

With a heavy heart and the ski mask Erica got for his birthday, Mieczyslaw Stilinski **(Haha it's official)** broke into the ice rink after school, knowing that it was Boyd's shift at the rink that day.

The boy was just finishing off, just searching for his keys so he could lock up, but before he could find them he heard footsteps behind him. He turned round quickly, face blank and hands clenched into fists, which he swung at the intruder. He heard a sickening crack and the figure in the mask cried out in pain and fell.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Aaah" A pained male voice came from under the mask, and Boyd instantly recognised the voice, he was good like that.

"What are you doing here Stilinski?" Said boy's eyes widened from behind his mask

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Answer the question" Boyd replied easily, body tense and blocking the exit, like a huge wall of muscle.

"I, erm, wanted to give you something... " He trailed off, a small trickle of blood coming through the mask, "Duuuuude, this mask was my favourite"

"Sorry" Boyd offered, but he didn't sound sorry at all, "Why couldn't you give me this in school?"

"I errr... don't like human interaction at school, I haven't talked to anyone besides Erica at school, and they won't let me wear the mask. It's against the dress code or somethin'..." Mieczyslaw replied, head ducking shyly, and if Boyd let emotion show through his face, it would have softened.

"Alright, so what is it?" If only he were better with words.

"What's what?" Answered Stilinski, innocently

"What you were going to give me?"

"Oh yeh, well it's like a love letter, but not really, it's more of a-"

"Stilinski"

"Yeh?"

"You know I'm not gay right?"

The masked boy in question just laughed happily, and maybe a little fondly, hand holding his stomach. Boyd couldn't see, but he imagined a happy smile on his face.

"I know doofus, it's not from me" He shook his head, and Vernon frowned.

"Who's it from?"

"Well you'll have to find out!" Boyd groaned audibly, earning him a chuckle from the masked boy who was still on the floor for some reason. Vernon offered him a hand, which the boy gladly took before handing him the piece of paper.

Boyd looked down at paper, a little weary that it might be a prank or something, but also slightly excited. The letter read:

 _Dear Mr-Sexy-Voice or Boyd,_

 _You're not the most talkative of guys, and I'm not the type of girl who'd be able to read body language, but that doesn't really matter because your voice-when you do use it-is totally husky and nice and you should talk more. It's like sweet sticky honey and fresh coffee in the morning and every time I hear it it's like listening to my favourite music while the windows are open in a moving car, absolutely exhilarating._

 _If you may have not noticed, I'm blind, but that doesn't stop myself from knowing how darn amazing I am, so please, go on a date with me my sweet-voiced-bear, you won't regret it one bit,_

 _Erica Reyes_

Boyd stares down at the letter incredulously, a small smile cracking through his facade before he can stop it.

"I can take you to her, if you like" the young Stilinski offers and all Boyd can do is nod slowly.

"Alright, but you're driving cause my dad says I can't drive with my mask on" and that's how Vernon Boyd ends up at the cemetery late at night with a boy with a ski mask and a heavy heart, gazing down at the tombstone of a girl he's never even met, but knows he probably might have fallen in love with had he been given the chance.

 **So yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, I'm totally giving Stiles a back-story because I'm amazing, and it'll only get more tragic from here YOU'RE WELCOME! Also, I'm sorry the chapters are so short D: Mah bad :^(**


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